Hands of Empowerment ~ Ntando Mazibuko

There is nothing more powerful
than the tender hands of a person
A person who gives up her life
to make sure others live on.

A person who takes her time
to mould the ever so shapeless minds
into a sculpture of gold.

A person who carries the future
of many in her palms
A person who aims to enrich
instead of harm.

A person who dries the tears
of a nation’s many faces
A person who makes all of this
seem easy or so it appears.

A person who takes your hand
and says…
“I’m a teacher and I will always be here.”


© Ntando Mazibuko -TRIBAL_AFRXCA

***
Grade 12
***

Animosity ~ Ntando Mazibuko

These streets that we roam
Are the wilderness we call home

I’ve got blood on my shirt
But this blood ain’t mine
I thank God
I guess it wasn’t my time

I’ve got four mouths to feed
Fuelled and driven by need
Poverty is the chain from which we can never be freed
So I stay locked and loaded with a weapon better known as greed
And I’m blessed to find out that I can still breathe
Because…

I’ve got blood on my shirt
But this blood ain’t mine
The animosity clock is ticking
And I’m running out of time.

Bang…
Bang!

The animosity of gang banging
Poverty a mother that gave birth to drug slanging
A suicidal community
Drugs are the rope that’s hanging
But for me, the last bullet in his gun
Ended my time

Now I’ve got blood on my shirt
But this time the blood is…
Mine.



©   Ntando Mazibuko   -TRIBAL_AFRXCA


***
Grade 12
***

Writing Destiny ~ Mika Datadin

How can I say I am sad?

All that's ever plagued my mind

has been my own poem,

my own writing

I have an unfortunate habit of using

words that do not wish to be used.



I am that one that has put

lead to paper, the one that

has made the mistakes, those

words I believe do not fit,

those awkward lines and harsh

forced rhymes.

All those writings I so regret

Yet I continue to write my

poems as such because I

cannot use the words I wish to.



One day in the future, when I

am in later stanzas of my

work, I will be free to write

as I please. Nothing will prevent

me from scribbling free verse,

independently of expectations.

One day in the future,

I will write my life

the way I wish.


©  Mika Datadin

***
Grade 11
***

Inside My Home ~ Mika Datadin

As I awoke dreary-eyed

I felt the burden of the world

fall onto my chest once again,

Pushing the air out of my

noisy lungs, silencing me from

uttering my helplessness



As I stood heavy-hearted

walking to the family room

the air burned holes in

my ears, as argument ensued.

But I would rather have this

destructive shelter, than journey beyond these walls.



As I step out, I am greeted

by smiling faces and batting eyelashes

small talk and big reactions

There I see a classmate

There I see a distant Aunt

But everywhere I see falsehood



How could you ask me to step into

A world where reality is not reality

Where every smile a scowl

Where every hug is an excuse

To stab someone in the back?

How could you ask me to make myself vulnerable?



Leave me

Inside my home

Where at least we speak our

Indecent truths face to face

Leave me

Inside my home

Where at least I feel

Real


©  Mika Datadin

***
Grade 11
***

Do you fare well in America? ~ Mika Datadin

For Jadida Kalim

We have entered the night to tell our tale

For it is then that we can come out

It is then that we are accepted

And real



During the day we are expected

To show ourselves only to be chastised

We are expected to leave our homes

And face the danger that lurks outside



But in the early hours of the morning

We come out to play

To meet friends from across the globe

To help those in need of an ear

To hear their woes



During the day we are occupied

With ink-filled papers and

Ink-filled minds

Pens grow out of our hands

Formulas spill out of our eyes



But when the sun begins to set

I can meet you over text, my friend

And forget for a while

That you're somewhere away from here, some thousands of miles


©  Mika Datadin

***
Grade 11
***

Widowed of A Living Companion ~ Mika Datadin

Love me the way you did when we were young

When she became old and waned

When you needed another muse as she lay in her bed

And you in mine

When you grew tired of her age

And accustomed to my beauty



I remember how your face would bath

In golden light on my pillow

I remember how you would buy me flowers

And clothes, and everything a young maid desires

But you could never but for me your real

love, your real self; for that is priceless to me



And then another came around

The same time my attraction weakened

You told me you needed to move on

To discover yourself

Here I am, left in my bed

And you in hers



I pray to you now to remember how my radiance had once sung

Love me again the way you did when we were young



©  Mika Datadin

***
Grade 11
***

Torch the Stars ~ Mika Datadin

Become who you are meant to become

Feel the power that is so rightly yours

Make the earth quake as you stride

Make the ocean waves calm

In your presence



Create the winds of tornadoes

Create the downfall of mountains

And the destruction of volcanoes



Rearrange the stars and planets

to your liking

Rearrange the cosmos as you

deem fit!



But remember not to abuse your strength,

Warrior,

You can use your powers for good as well;

To nurture the smallest flowers,

The youngest baby bird

Protect those that look up to you

Do not forsake them as you have been forsaken,

Great Warrior



©  Mika Datadin

***
Grade 11
***

On His Skin ~ Mika Datadin

Today we see history repeat itself

I found for a long while that

I had no urge to write poems.

I can't even remember

my last story, or when it was written



However, today I find it necessary to

Pick up the pen once again.



No one really discouraged me from writing

No one really knew, and

Those that did,

None of them really cared.



However, today I find it necessary to

Pick up the pen once again.



My pen is made of magic in its steel

And tales in its ink.

Stories told time and time again

Yet unparalleled and fresh with each drop.



This is why today I find it necessary to

Pick up the pen once again.



I've had no real companion

Besides my sterling silver partner

It's kept me from my tears,

And shielded me from the

Screams of my pressure.



I may decide last minute not

To write, to be strong,

But my sadness is stronger lately,

So I wish to see my magic pen

Of silver ink leave red

Marks on its canvas tonight.

This evening

Nobody can stop me from

Picking up my pen once again.




©  Mika Datadin

***
Grade 11
***